


Tell Me It's Real (it's real)

by LetItRaines



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Fake Dating, Friends to Lovers, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-07
Updated: 2019-12-07
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:07:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21695881
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LetItRaines/pseuds/LetItRaines
Summary: Killian Jones has done a lot of stupid things in his life. The stupidest, however, was telling Liam that he and his best friend Emma Swan are dating after Liam presses him on why he hasn’t started dating again after his last breakup. It’s fine. Liam lives an ocean away, and Killian has time to figure out how exactly he’s going to deal with this before there are any actual consequences.That is until Liam shows up at Emma’s parents’ house in Storybrooke four days before Christmas thinking that Killian and Emma have been dating for months.Emma’s going to murder him.(A Fake Dating AU)
Relationships: Captain Hook | Killian Jones/Emma Swan
Comments: 66
Kudos: 424





	Tell Me It's Real (it's real)

**Author's Note:**

> I've never done fake dating before, surprisingly enough, so I figured I'd give it a go! I think I might need to do it again 😘
> 
> I apologize for the influx of words this week! I'd usually space these things out, but since this is a Christmas story and I hope to have had my baby sometime in the next week, I figured I'd post now. No one wants to read Christmas fake dating in January/February. lol.

“Oh my God,” Emma mumbles as she falls back onto his couch and hangs her feet over the back, “my mom is freaking ridiculous.”

“Freaking?”

She twists her head to look at him and roll her eyes. “My mother could somehow hear me swear through the phone if I did, so I substituted. She’s magic.”

“Mary Margaret Nolan is many things, love, but I don’t believe she’s actually magic. I’d also be remiss to say that she cannot hear you swear while she’s a couple hundred miles away.”

“Trust me, she can.”

Killian huffs and uncrosses his legs before propping his socked feet on his coffee table, noting the little smudge that he needs to clean. Emma must have had her coffee here this morning. “Why is your mother _freaking_ ridiculous?”

“Because she, like the mothers in every Hallmark movie in existence, keeps asking me if I’m going to bring someone home for Christmas. I’ve brought a boyfriend home exactly once, which went horribly, and then I said I would never do that again. She also seems to think that I’m secretly dating someone and that she’s going to weasel this information out of me.”

“She cares about you is all.”

  
  
Emma laughs, and he knows that she’s about to call him on his bullshit.

(He hopes Mary Margaret can’t hear his thoughts.)

“She cares,” Emma says hesitantly while her thumbs swipe across the screen, “but she is annoying. I’m going to tell her I’m not bringing someone home.”

“Besides me.”

“Yeah, but you don’t count.”

“Well, thanks,” Killian chuckles. He reaches over to pinch her side, but she barely flinches more than a slight squirm away from him. “I’m glad I don’t count.”

Emma tugs her bottom lip between her teeth and drops her phone against her stomach before turning to look at him with what he swears is a slight pinkness to her cheeks. “You know what I mean, KJ.”

“Aye, darling,” he promises before leaning over and lightly pressing his lips to her cheek, “I do. What do you want for dinner? Did you eat before you came over?”

“I came right from the station and skipped lunch because paperwork is an absolute bitch.”

  
  
“Careful, Nolan,” Killian laughs, “your mum might be able to hear that dirty mouth of yours. How do you feel about Tai takeout?”

“Mexican.”

“Chinese.”

“You’ve got a deal, my friend,” she sighs as she twists on the couch until she’s sitting up the right way and her hair is jostled everywhere. She looks ridiculous, and he can feel the smile tugging at the corners of his lips at the monster that is her hair. “Also, would you hate me if I told you that I have neither packed for this weekend nor wrapped presents?”

“I could only hate you if you said you also needed to do laundry.”

Emma flips her hair back so that he can see her face, and he already knows her answer. “I need to do laundry. Like, two weeks’ worth of it, and I think I might also need you to wrap my presents instead of me trying. I can’t get the corners all straight like you do.”

“You want me to come over tomorrow and help?”

“I’ll love you forever if you do.”

Killian bites his tongue and nods, resisting all of the words he wants to say and winking instead. “I knew eventually you’d fall in love with me, darling. I’m too irresistible for it to never happen. I simply didn’t think it would take five years.”

“Guess you’re not as irresistible as you thought.”

“Or maybe you’re too stubborn.” She reaches out to slap him, and he grabs onto her wrist. “No, you definitely are.”

-/-

“Bloody hell, woman,” Killian scoffs as he pushes Emma’s suitcase into the back of his car. “What did you put in here?”

“The presents you wrapped.”

“Then what’s in the duffle bag?”

“More presents you didn’t wrap because I hid them from you.”

Killian groans and leans forward to rest his head against the suitcase while he scuffs his shoe against the pavement. “Is there any way for me to get out of going to your parents’ house for Christmas? I don’t think I’ll be able to last this entire week if it means I’m going to be lugging around all of your stuff. I think I’ll celebrate Christmas by myself this year.”

Emma pats his back. “You’ll be fine. It’ll be fun. My mom is making your favorite apple pie because she loves you more than she loves me.”

“You know,” he starts, pushing the suitcase in a little bit more and slamming the trunk closed, “suddenly I think I’ll be able to make it. However, you, darling, are going to have to be the one to suffer from your mother’s interrogation over your dating life, so I’m not sure that you’ll make it.”

She slaps his back this time. “Shut up and drive.”

“As you wish.”

It’s not a long drive from Portland to Storybrooke, just over two hours, and it passes quickly while they listen to a true crime podcast and debate how much eggnog Emma’s uncle James is going to drink before noon every day. Emma has to update him on every new development in her family since he saw them all last year at Christmas so that he doesn’t step on any toes by asking about dead relationships or even dead relatives, and he tries to commit it all to memory. Emma’s got enough relatives and quasi-relatives to fill an entire auditorium, and it’s always shocking to him how different that is to simply he and Liam. They’ve got this wild and complex history that’s continuously evolving, and his family can be summed up into a few short phrases.

Dead mum, deadbeat dad, an aunt who wanted nothing to do with Killian once he turned eighteen, and one brother who still lives in England while Killian stayed in America after he finished university.

Small. His family is miniscule. It’s only he and Liam, and while FaceTime is a bloody brilliant invention, it’s not a substitute for the real thing. They usually see each other at least twice a year, Killian going to England once and Liam coming to Maine the other time, but this year Liam couldn’t get off work and Killian couldn’t afford the outrageously expensive flights for such a short trip.

He’s trying to save up to have enough for a down payment on this home he’s been looking at, itching and aching to get his hands on it so that he can renovate, and every dollar he doesn’t absolutely need is going to his savings. Liam told him that if he so much as thought about touching his savings that he would find a way to cut off his balls even from an ocean away.

Killian would like to keep those two particular assets.

So it’s another Christmas spent in the quirky small-town of Storybrooke, Maine where he gets to hear David tell the exact same stories about Emma that he’s heard every year before he’s suddenly corralled into a private room and threatened within an inch of his life if he ever breaks Emma’s heart.

Obviously his balls are never safe.

But he’d never hurt Emma. Ever. And despite what David and Mary Margaret and possibly a few other people think, he and Emma are nothing more than close friends. There will be no breaking of hearts.

Except maybe his if Emma ever does find someone to bring home for Christmas. Killian wants her to be happy, more than most anything, but that Christmas will definitely be one he doesn’t spend with the Nolans. They’re like family to him, but he’s not sure if he’ll ever have a permanent spot. Killian knows how it is with Emma’s boyfriends. They’re never comfortable with him, and he’s heard the fights about him through thin walls and hushed phone conversations, and one day Emma’s going to choose someone else over him. It’s inevitable.

And he’s the fool who fell in love with his best friend and has never had the balls to ask her out.

He’s got to stop thinking about his balls in all of these unpleasant scenarios.

“Bloody hell,” Killian mumbles when he pulls onto Main Street and sees the quite frankly ridiculous amount of decorations lining the streets and filling all of the shop windows. “Did an elf throw up here?”

Emma reaches over and squeezes his ear. “You would know if your own kind was in town.”

“Shut the fuck up.”

“Careful,” she hums, “we’re within five miles of Mary Margaret. She’ll be able to hear you.”

“I will take my chances, love.”

“It’s your funeral.”

“As long as you don’t bury me in one of those tacky Christmas sweaters, I don’t think I’ll mind.”

“Damn,” Emma laughs before tugging his ear again and leaning over to lightly brush her lips across his cheek, “I guess I’ll have to change my plans for your funeral attire then.”

When they get to the Nolans’ farmhouse, Emma tells him to pull onto the gravel driveway and park next to her dad’s truck instead of parking on the side of the road next to the white fence like their guests usually do. Only daughter’s privileges or something like that. He’s not complaining, especially when he picks up half of Emma’s bags to carry inside and is suddenly reminded that she definitely packed a brick or two in there.

Emma opens the unlocked door, something that still fascinates him as someone who has never lived anywhere but a city, and everything inside is exactly the same as the last time he was here. White walls full of family pictures and antique pieces Mary Margaret found in her thrift stores, and little stems of greenery stuck around to bring some color to the place. It looks like one of the homes on Emma’s favorite HGTV show. He can’t recall the name now, but there’s always a hell of a lot of white and throw pillows. He’ll never understand the throw pillows.

The Christmas tree centered in the archway left of the stairs is bare of everything but lights, and Killian already knows that Emma is going to give up decorating halfway through while he finishes her part. Her parents wait for her to come home to decorate it every year, and every year she hangs about ten ornaments before getting distracted and leaving him or someone else to finish.

“Mom,” Emma calls out as she drops her bags at the bottom of the stairs. “Dad? Where are you guys?” There’s no response, and when Emma turns to look at him with raised brows, he shrugs his shoulders and carefully places his bags on the ground. “They have to be here. Dad’s truck is here. Let’s go look out back.”

Killian follows Emma’s lead through the living room and the kitchen to walk out on the back porch, but when they open the door, the backyard is empty, not a single soul to be seen. Emma immediately pulls out her phone and runs her fingers across it while her brows furrow and her smile slowly curves downward the longer she stares at her phone.

“They walked into town for lunch,” she finally explains while sticking her phone in the back pocket of her jeans. “Like, they knew we were going to be here soon, and my parents decided to walk to town. I told them to bring us back food.”

“Granny’s?”

“Of course, KJ. There are fifty restaurants in this town, and my parents only go to one.” She pushes against his shoulder. “Now come on, let’s go put our stuff upstairs and then raid the fridge for the good eggnog before James gets here.”

-/-

There’s a picture of Emma and her parents hanging in Emma’s bedroom over her dresser. She can’t be more than five, and her hair is even brighter and curlier than it is now. He thinks it might be the most adorable thing he’s ever seen. She’s got whipped cream on her nose and chocolate spread across her mouth, and David has chocolate smeared against his cheek while Mary Margaret has flour in her hair. Someone must have snapped the picture for them after a disastrous baking incident, and Killian wishes the joy in the photo could be captured and shared today.

“Woah,” Killian mumbles when he turns and sees Emma pulling his clothes out of his suitcase, “what are you doing with my stuff? Why are you hanging it in here?”

“You’re staying in my room this year.”

“Like hell I am.”

Emma turns her head and rolls her eyes. “Don’t get your underwear bunched up. My grandmother is staying in the guest bedroom, so you got booted out. My bed is more comfortable than the couch.”

Killian reaches up to scratch behind his ear while hoping his cheeks don’t redden. “I promise I can sleep on the couch or on the floor. It’s no problem, love.”

She sighs even as she puts a pair of his jeans on a shelf in her closet. “Are you serious? You want to sleep on the couch?”

He’d love to sleep in the bed with Emma, but that seems like a horrible idea. He can hide his feelings for her most of the time, but being in the same bed, especially when he knows that Emma is a heat-seeker in her sleep, wouldn’t enable him to hide certain physical attributes of his _feelings_.

“I truly don’t mind.”

“Fine,” Emma huffs, but your clothes are still going to stay in here unless you want to bother my grandmother every time you need something. I hear she’s looking for a new boyfriend.”

Killian barks out a laugh and grabs one of his nicer dress shirts from Emma before she messes it up. “I’m fine keeping my clothes in here. I don’t think Ruth and I are suited for a relationship.”

“You never know. You could be my step-grandfather one day. I bet you’d buy me the best Christmas presents.”

“Only if you’re good.”

Emma winks. “Always.”

“Emma?” a faint voice calls out as the house slightly shakes after the slamming of the door. “Emma, are you here?”

“Upstairs, Mom,” Emma calls out. “We’re unpacking.”

The stairs creak as Mary Margaret walks up toward them, and suddenly she’s there and smothering Emma with a hug that he’s seen a million times.

“Oh, sweetie, I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you too. It’s good to be home.”

“You say that now, but wait until your dad gets home and asks you about the last time you had your tires rotated on your car.”

“I took it to the shop for her last week,” Killian explains, and Mary Margaret releases Emma from her embrace before turning to him with a bright smile.

“Bless you for taking such good care of our girl,” Mary Margaret sighs. She embraces him, and Killian does the same. “I’m thrilled that you could come and spend Christmas with us again this year.”

“I am too. Thank you for having me, love.”

“Always.” She pats his back and pulls back. “David will be here with your lunch in a few minutes. Why don’t we go and get a head start on the Christmas tree?”

-/-

The Nolans are as wonderful as they always are, and it’s refreshing to spend time in a house so vibrant and full of life. They’re what Christmas movies and children’s novels are made of, and sometimes Killian forgets how wonderful, if not slightly overbearing, they are because of Emma’s slightly more pessimistic view on life. She’s happy most of the time, a smile usually on her face even when it’s wry, but he’s seen her go through her breakups with Neal, Walsh, and several guys in between and seen the darkness that resides behind the green of her eyes. People have betrayed her in the worst ways that humans can be betrayed, but she pushes that down…most of the time.

He understands that.

What he doesn’t understand is having a family like this.

Or, well, he didn’t understand that until Emma came sauntering into his life one day telling him that he needed to stop taking her parking spot in the parking garage that their two apartments share. It was all a misunderstanding. His apartment gave him the wrong numbered lot, and he’s never been so thankful for a clerical error and an angry blonde woman.

Love of his bloody life, he thinks.

No, actually, he knows this even as he watches her try to act something out in this ridiculous game of charades where she’s standing on one leg with her hair brushed in front of her face.

One day he swears that he’ll tell her and that he’ll stop harboring these feelings, but he’s selfish and doesn’t want to have their friendship altered. He also doesn’t want to make her uncomfortable. She shouldn’t have to harbor the burden of his feelings for her, especially if she doesn’t feel the same way. Emma owes him nothing more than what she’s willing to give. Being friends is more than he could ever ask for, but his mind betrays him and imagines a time in the future when they’re still playing this stupid game but with a ring on both of their left hands.

That’s a dangerous thought that he pushes down in favor of looking at his texts.

**Liam:** I’m sorry I didn’t manage to call you today. You want to try again tomorrow?

**Killian** : Our usual time?

**Liam:** Sounds perfect. Have a good time with the Nolans. I’m sure that’s got to be weird for you this year.

Killian’s cheeks heat, but he doesn’t respond to Liam’s text as Emma loses her balance and stumbles to the ground until she’s flat on her ass and her entire body is shaking with laughter.

“I was a f-freaking f-flamingo,” she stutters out between laughs. “How did no one get that?”

“Why didn’t you flap your wings?” David questions.

“I did,” Emma sighs as she falls back in laughter. “You guys are all idiots. Why can’t I have Killian on my team? He’s better at this.”

“Because in order for Killian to stay in my house,” David begins, “he has to follow my rules. Rule one is that he helps me with whatever home improvement project I’m working on. Rule two is that he’s on my team for all games.”

“Those are dumb rules.”

“I rather like those rules, love.”

She holds her middle finger up on both hands.

“Emma,” Mary Margaret gasps, “don’t do that.”

“Next time guess that I’m a flamingo, and I won’t have to.”

“Don’t fret, Mary Margaret,” Killian teases. “Emma has always been a sore loser, as I’m sure you know.”

“She’s the worst,” she agrees. “Does anyone want to keep decorating the tree? We didn’t get far earlier.”

Emma groans.

“Or we could keep getting obliterated at this game.”

“Tree,” Emma sighs, “definitely tree.”

-/-

Emma lasts a whole ten minutes decorating the tree before giving up and walking away to eat her leftover onion rings from lunch.

He finishes decorating with David and Mary Margaret, and they tell him that he’s taking Emma’s place on next year’s Christmas card.

-/-

Killian wakes to the smell of coffee and to the sound of hushed talking in the kitchen. Light is peeking through the closed curtains, a sliver crossing over his right eye, and he grumbles and turns back over on the couch hoping that the crick in his neck and the ache in his back will go away after being awake for a few hours.

This couch was not this uncomfortable when he sat on it for most of the evening yesterday.

“KJ,” Emma calls out, “do you want blueberries in your pancakes?”

“Could you use a quieter voice?”

There’s a shuffling and a creak of floorboards, and all of the sudden a firm grip is tightening around his bicep that has him snapping up. “Bloody hell, woman. Have you ever heard of – Liam?”

“Did you miss me, little brother?”

He must still be dreaming because all of the sudden his brother is standing above him with a shit-eating grin on his face.

Liam shouldn’t be in Storybrooke. He should be eight hours and a plane ride away, and there’s no way he can be here. Right?

“Are you going to get up and hug me or are you going to stay on that couch like the lazy ass you must be to have fallen asleep down here last night instead of in an actual bed with your girlfriend?”

Killian’s mind is playing catch up. He’s still half asleep and thinking that Emma is going to make him blueberry pancakes, or more likely Mary Margaret will make him those pancakes while Emma watches. Then, all of the sudden, Liam is here standing over him and not in England like he should be, which makes no sense when…holy shit.

No.

No, no, no, no, no.

Fuck.

“David can be a bit old-fashioned,” Killian lies as he sits up on the couch and then stands to give Liam a hug, squeezing him tightly to convince himself that Liam is really here. “He doesn’t like me to sleep in Emma’s room unless there’s absolutely no other place in the house.”

“You’re both adults.”

“David’s house, David’s rules,” he continues. “What the hell are you doing here? How did this happen?”

“Emma arranged it,” Liam murmurs into Killian’s hair. He smells like he always does and feels just the same. This is some kind of miracle, and Emma Nolan may be the greatest woman alive to do something like this for him. This had to have been her idea. His brother is _here_. This is real. “And I’m a wanker who has lied to you for weeks about not being able to take off work.”

“You’re probably too good a liar.”

“No such thing.”

  
  
“That’s what criminals think.”

Killian pulls back from their embrace, his cheeks already beginning to ache from his smile, and sees Emma standing in the archway to the room with her arms crossed over her chest and the cheekiest smile he’s ever seen gracing her lips.

“You absolute tease,” Killian chuckles as he walks toward Emma and wraps his arms around her waist, picking her up and tugging her close to him while her feet dangle from the ground and her arms loop around his neck. “I can’t believe you did this for me.”

“Sometimes I like you and want to do something nice.”

“Nice?” he scoffs out as he buries his face in her neck and her hair. “This is more than nice. You’re bloody brilliant.”

Her hand rubs up and down his back, and he melts into it, wondering if he can stay in this place and this moment forever. “You deserve it. Though, you really have to explain to Liam that we’re not dating because – ”

“Liam,” Killian blurts out, pulling back from Emma to turn over to his brother and his Cheshire Cat smile, “could you excuse us for a moment? I promise I’ll be back in a hurry and we can talk and eat breakfast then, yeah?”

“That sounds wonderful.”

Emma is staring at him with the impossible combination of wide eyes and furrowed brows, and she gasps when he practically picks her up again and carries her through the archway to the kitchen and out the door to the back porch. It’s freezing, something he knows Emma is going to complain about, but he needed a little privacy.

“What the hell are you doing?”

God, he’s an idiot. An undeniable idiot, and he has completely and totally screwed himself into a corner.

Sighing, Killian puts Emma on the ground and moves to run his hands up and down her arms to keep her warm. She going to hate him for what he’s about to say.

“Don’t hate me.”

“That is never a good way to start a conversation.”

“Yeah, well, you’re going to hate this conversation.”

Emma huffs and reaches forward to tuck her hands underneath his sweatshirt so that the iciness of her skin is touching his back and absolutely electrifying him. Why is he like this? He’s a damn bastard.

“Hey,” Emma whispers as her nails scratch against his back, “tell me what’s wrong, KJ.”

Swallowing, he nods. “I’ve done something stupid.”

“Did you kill someone?”

“What? No. Why would you say that?”

“Because you do stupid shit all the time, and that is the only thing I can imagine you doing to have you this freaked out.”

Killian laughs and a white puff of air escapes through his lips before he leans forward and rests his forehead against Emma’s. “I told Liam we’re dating.”

“I’m s-sorry. What did you just say?”

“Liam thinks we’re dating, which is probably why he’s said several confusing things in your correspondence over the past few weeks.”

Emma’s nails dig into his back hard enough to draw blood, and she pulls back so that he loses the feel of the heat of her skin. “Well, that explains a lot, but how the hell did Liam get the impression that we’re dating? Also, I’m going to freeze to death. It has to be fifteen degrees.”

“I know, I know,” he mumbles before pulling her back into his embrace. They must be a pair standing out here in so few clothes with the air nipping at their fingers. “I, well, long story short. Liam was concerned about me after Milah left me because he didn’t seem to think I was dating.”

“You weren’t.”

  
  
“That’s beside the point.”

“It’s obviously not.”

“Anyways,” he murmurs into her hair, “he was being a buggering ass for so long and one day I told him that you and I had begun to see each other. That was maybe…six months ago. Possibly seven months.”

“What the actual fuck?”

“You’re going to wake up your mum with that kind of language.”

Emma takes a step back while she bounces on her toes and rubs her own hands up and down her arms. Her nose is positively red. “Why would you tell Liam that we’re dating?”

_Because I’m in love with you, and he knows it._

“Because I wanted to get him off my back, and you were around when I told him.”

“Okay, okay, okay,” Emma chants, and she stops bouncing on her toes to pace back and forth on the porch. “So what was your plan when Liam was eventually going to visit and he realized we weren’t dating? Or when you started dating someone else and suddenly you had to explain why I was so cool hanging out with you and your new girlfriend? Liam literally works in fraud. I think he would have realized something is up.”

“Insurance discovery is not – ”

“Killian.”

He holds his hands up. “My apologies, love. Look, I realize that I’ve screwed up, but I didn’t think I was going to see him, certainly not here. I thought I’d have more time to figure things out. I didn’t – bloody hell, what am I going to do?”

“Have you ever considered telling the truth?”

“No, absolutely not.” Emma opens her mouth to protest, but he doesn’t let her. “Listen, if we could simply pretend to be together for this one week, I’ll figure something out once Liam’s gone home. I promise I won’t make it awkward for you or for anyone. He would be devastated if he found out I lied to him like this, and I’m sure he’ll have me committed for being insane.”

“You want me to pretend to date you. I think I could have you committed for that idea alone.”

“Yes. Come on, darling. It won’t be difficult. We’re already close. We simply have to add in a little public affection, and he’ll never know the wiser.”

“KJ,” she sighs, and his heart is beating so loudly he thinks it might be in between his ears. This is a horrible idea for seventy-two different reasons, but right now he’s desperate not to be a disappointment to his brother. “You know I would do anything for you, but how would this work? My family knows we’re not dating, and I can’t lie to them. That would be too much of a mess.”

“Tell them. Let them be in on it. I don’t even know. I’m sure it would be highly entertaining for them.”

Emma chuckles and rubs her hands up and down her face. “They would die of laughter. My dad…you wouldn’t even have to give him a gift. This would be gift enough, especially because it would be reassurance to him that you weren’t actually fucking me.”

“Exactly,” Killian points out while he inhales a breath of chilled air. “Please, love. I will do whatever you want when we get home.”

Her brow arches. “Really now?”

“Anything reasonable.”

“Okay, okay,” she sighs, and then all of the sudden she’s stepping forward and pressing up on her toes while her arms wrap around his neck. “I’ll think on what I want my reward to be because – ”

And then, in the most unexpected moment of his entire life, Emma Nolan’s lips are pressing into his, cold and a little chapped but altogether wonderful in all of the ways that he’s spent years imagining. His hands curl around her back, pulling her closer to him so that he can feel the soft curves and hard lines of her body while her lips start to move over his, soft and slow. This isn’t real. It can’t be. He’s loved her for too long, even if he didn’t realize it for a long damn time, and this is all he’s wanted.

But then Emma is pulling back and lingering in his space, forehead pressed to his and breath intermingling so that he’s not sure whose is whose.

That’s when the ball drops, and he’s starkly reminded that while he may have felt Emma’s lips on his, while he may know that she likes to focus on one lip at a time and nibble the slightest bit, that wasn’t actually real. Emma’s next words reaffirm that for him.

“Don’t think too much about that,” she heavily breathes, basically panting next to him. “I’m sure we’d have to kiss at some point, and I didn’t want it to be awkward in front of Liam.”

“Aye, I know,” Killian lies. “Brilliant thinking.”

“I’ve watched a lot of really bad Hallmark movies. I know how this works.” She falls back from him, and Killian’s left standing there like an absolute asshole. “Let’s go inside. You’ve got some catching up to do with your brother.”

At that, she turns away, opening the door to the kitchen, and Killian reaches up to touch his lips, still feeling Emma’s kiss there.

He’s well and truly fucked.

-/-

Killian isn’t there when Emma tells her parents and Ruth their plan, and he’s not entirely sure if she plans on telling the extended family that will pop in and out over the next few days, but he knows the exact moment that David knows. David walks into the living room still in his pajamas, takes one look at Killian as he talks to Liam about how he’s been lately, and walks right out of the room trying to smother his laugh.

Smooth, mate. Smooth.

Mary Margaret is much better and only manages to stare at him with a goofy grin for a few minutes before her face returns to normal and she doesn’t look like she knows the world’s most stupid secret.

It’s all fine and good until Emma comes into the living room and gracefully plops herself down on his lap, wiggling around until she can get into a comfortable position. It takes far longer than it should, and when she winks at him, he knows exactly why she’s doing what she’s doing.

It’s payback.

Emma is very nonchalantly grinding down onto his lap so that he’s half-hard, on the way to being completely hard, and his sweatpants don’t do much to hide anything.

Killian is not going to sport an erection in front of his brother and Emma’s parents.

“Bloody hell, woman,” he hisses into her ear while his hand wraps around her stomach and holds her still. “Have you lost your mind?”

She tries to move again, but his grip doesn’t allow her any movement. “No, but I think you will in a few minutes.”

“So,” Liam claps, “do we have any plans for today? Is there anything I can help you with Mr. and Mrs. Nolan? Thank you again for letting me invade your holiday.”

“Don’t think a second thought about it.” Mary Margaret waves him away and stands from her chair. “Any family of Killian’s is family to us. Christmas falls on such a weird day this year being in the middle of the week that we have all kinds of extra time. I believe we’ll lounge around for most of the day today, but I might start on my pies so I don’t have to do them all tomorrow. Feel free to do whatever you want. I’m sure you and Killian have lots to catch up on.”

“We can catch up while helping you,” Liam promises before nudging his shoulder into Killian’s. “Besides, I’m sure Killian is eager to impress you both since this Christmas he’s Emma’s boyfriend and not simply a friend. It’s a whole new set of standards.”

Killian is going to choke on air.

“Which is exactly why my eyes will be on him, especially since I’ve just been informed he’ll be sleeping in Emma’s room tonight.”

“Dad,” Emma groans, “don’t be ridiculous. I feel like it’s safer for Killian to sleep in my bedroom here than anywhere else. I mean, you don’t know what we get up to when we’re back in Portland.”

“Please don’t even say that. I don’t want…images in my head.”

“Oh my God,” Emma gasps as she grinds down, _hard_ , on his lap so that his fingers curl into the couch. “Stop. I swear, you’re so old-fashioned sometimes.” Emma rises from his lap then, and he quickly grabs a throw pillow on the couch to cover his tented sweatpants before Emma leans back down and brushes her lips across his, lingering there. “I’m going to go take a shower. You should find a movie to watch while I’m gone since I have a feeling you won’t want to move for a little while.”

“Aye, love,” Killian agrees with stuttered breathing. “I think I can manage that.”

-/-

Emma’s bed is smaller than it looks. Or maybe he simply feels like it’s smaller now that he’s underneath her covers and can feel the heat of her body radiating toward him. He’s kissed her twice today with several close brushes of her lips on the corner of his, but he can’t handle being close to her in bed. What the hell is wrong with him? He and Emma touch all the time, have been physically closer than this, and he cannot begin to count the times they’ve fallen asleep next to each other on one of their couches. This should be fine and normal, and yet his body is on fire, little sparks of electricity shocking him.

This is a weird, wonderful day, and it’s as if his entire personality has been shaken by it.

His brother is here and will be spending Christmas day with him, something Killian didn’t think they’d be able to do this year, and he’s kissed Emma.

Unreal.

He should get a grip and stop freaking out. This isn’t him. He’s always cool, calm, and collected. He isn’t the type to freak out or worry over little things, and yet his mind has been in a constant state of panic all day.

Now that he can feel Emma’s heat radiating toward him and the smoothness of her leg occasionally brushing against his, Killian knows that every decision he’s made today has been stupid.

The bed shakes as Emma violently flips over onto her side until she’s facing him and wrapping her arms around her pillow while her face squishes back into her neck. “So…today was weird.”

“That’s certainly one way to describe it.”

“I mean, we spent the day with my family, which is always weird, coupled by your brother, which is weirder even though I knew that was happening, and we also spent the day pretending to be together. Like, I think Liam is downstairs on the couch thinking that we’re up here fucking right now.”

“I would prefer that Liam doesn’t think about my sex life.”

“Imaginary one.”

“Oi,” he complains, reaching over to pinch her side so that she squirms away before sticking her legs through his calves. Bloody freezing feet. “It may have been awhile, but I’ll have you know that my sex life is nothing to knock. It’s not as if you’re out often.”

“At least I’m not lying to my brother about my dating life.”

“Sorry about that again, love,” he whispers as his hand runs up her side and rests alongside her waist, fingers curling against warm skin. “I don’t – I shouldn’t have…”

“Hey,” she whispers while brushing back some of his hair, “I don’t mind. Not really. There are worse things in the world than having to make out with a hot guy over the holidays.”

Killian waggles his brows, putting on a façade to keep himself from rambling on and on about his feelings for Emma. “I knew that you fancied me.”

She flicks her fingers against her forehead. “Don’t let it go to your head.”

“I promise I’ll try my best.” Killian leans forward and brushes his lips against her forehead, lingering longer than he should. He’s had a taste and can’t seem to get enough. “Let’s get some sleep, love. Your mum said we’re spending all of tomorrow baking, and I think it’ll take up all our energy.”

“That sounds like a good idea, especially since before we go to sleep, I plan to wear you out with some rather rigorous love-making.”

Emma laughs as she turns around and nuzzles into her pillow, keeping her freezing feet still tucked in between his calves while Killian wonders once again what the hell he’s gotten himself into. How could this possible get worse?

-/-

Monday is more than busy. When Mary Margaret said they were going to use up all of their energy baking, she meant it. She’s baking a pie for every single one of their neighbors, and each one gets more care than Killian thought possible. He, Liam, Emma, David, and Ruth all try to help, but in the end, Mary Margaret only finds he and Liam useful. David, Emma, and Ruth all wander off and wrap presents or write holiday cards to go along with each pie, and he’s mostly left in peace and quiet to bake pies and have time to catch up with Liam in a way that they can’t do while apart or in the company of others.

Killian is still in shock over Emma arranging Liam’s visit for him. It’s one of the most thoughtful gifts he’s ever received, and he’s convinced that he doesn’t deserve her. She never claims to be particularly kind or giving, but he sees all of that in everything that she does for him.

She arranged for his brother to fly from England and stay with her parents for Christmas, and she’s pretending to date him to cover up Killian’s mistakes.

What a woman.

And she’s surprisingly good at pretending to date him. Every once and awhile she’ll wander into the kitchen, stealing fruit from his pie filling and popping it in her mouth before brushing her lips across his shoulder, his cheeks, his lips. She runs her hands along his arm, tracing the muscles and the veins, before wrapping her hands around his waist and squeezing him. It’s all these natural, affectionate touches that he grew accustomed to while in a real relationship, but there’s a thrill every time Emma does something like this simply because it’s Emma. He’s got a heat deep in his belly, a redness flushed on his cheeks, and emotion is lodged in his throat always waiting for what she’s going to do next.

It’s a surprise.

A great one too.

And despite his constant reminders to himself, it’s easy to forget that none of this is real when he threads his fingers through Emma’s as they sit on the couch and argue over what Christmas movie to watch or when Emma runs her foot along his calf. It’s easy to forget when Mary Margaret softly smiles at the two of them while David scowls, and it’s even easier to forget when Liam asks them questions and neither of them have to lie about their time spent together.

It’s so real that Killian is convincing himself that it is real, especially the next day on Christmas Eve when he and Emma are delivering the pies and laughing so hard that his lungs burn (that could be from the snow and the cold) and his stomach aches while Emma does impersonations of each of her neighbors before they knock on their doors.

She’s spot on each time.

Killian loves her, honestly and truly. He loves the freckles on her face and covering her shoulders. He loves the sound of her laugh and the way that it trickles through the air like a sweet melody. He loves her wit and the way she’s quick with her words, and he loves the way her nose scrunches up when she’s trying to concentrate or when she’s cold.

The chilled air nips at her nose and reddens it enough that Killian finds himself leaning forward and biting down at the tip before kissing her there. Her cheeks blush and turn as red as her nose, and Killian wonders if he’s ever been more in love with her than he is at this moment.

Likely not.

But it’s not real, and the weight of that weighs heavy in his stomach.

It’s not real.

_It’s not real_.

“Do you want some hot chocolate, KJ?” Emma asks him later that night as he, Liam, and Emma lounge in the living with the rest of Emma’s family already gone to bed. David teased them about staying up so late that Santa won’t come visit, and it’s a wonder the man can still make such awful jokes when he hasn’t had a young child in so many years.

“No thank you, love. I think you’re the only one who can drink chocolate after we’ve consumed so much sugar today. My figure isn’t going to thank me after this week.”

“I mean, I wasn’t going to say anything, but – ”

Killian reaches for a pillow and tosses it across the room at her, but she quickly dodges out of his way and wanders into the kitchen where he can see her clumsily grabbing all of the ingredients for her to make her homemade hot chocolate. He sighs, content, and leans back into the couch with his hands behind his head and his eyes closed.

“Do you think she’s the one?”

“Hmmm?”

“Emma,” Liam repeats, “do you think she’s the woman you’ll spend the rest of your life with?”

Killian does that thing where he chokes on air again, and he bites his tongue to keep from coughing. Of-fucking-course Liam would ask him something like this. Of course. But this is his own fault and a mess of his own making.

Turning his head, Killian opens his eyes and looks at his brother sitting in the armchair opposite him before quickly glancing over and making sure that Emma isn’t listening. “I don’t know,” he answers honestly. “I’d want to. I just…I’m not sure if Emma feels the same way.”

Liam’s brows furrow together while he shakes his head from side to side. “Trust me, she does.”

“How could you possibly know that?”

“She told me.”

_Do. Not. Choke. On. Air._

“I’m sorry,” Killian sputters while he tries to catch up. “What?”

“Emma,” Liam explains, tugging his blanket further up his lap and waving toward the kitchen where Emma is spraying whipped cream into her mouth. “We were both up early this morning while you were sleeping the day away, and she and I got to talking about how you’ve been doing lately with all of the changes in your department at the university and, well, life. You’ve found a good one in her. To be honest, I didn’t quite believe you when you said you’d gotten the balls to tell her you fancy her, but now I can see that you actually have.”

Killian scoffs all the while trying to stop the swirling of his stomach. “I wouldn’t lie to you about something like that.”

Except he definitely would.

“I know, little brother, but can you blame me for being hesitant? You’ve been in love with her for years. I didn’t think you’d ever actually act on it, especially after Milah.”

“Yeah, well, things happen. And it’s younger brother. There’s nothing little about me.”

Liam yawns, his eyes scrunching up in a way that reminds Killian of their mum weirdly enough. “If you say so. I think I might have to call it a night soon.”

“What? I don’t get to grill you on your dating life.”

Liam winks. “No. Those are my privileges as the elder brother.”

“That’s bullocks.”

“That’s life.”

“What’s life?” Emma wonders as she walks back into the room with a large mug topped in white cream with what he’s sure is cinnamon sprinkled on top. She carefully places it on the side table before sitting down and curling into his side. She pulls his arm over her shoulder, and he lightly tangles his fingers into the ends of her hair.

“Killian was trying to ask me about my dating life, but I told him I have elder brother privileges and don’t have to say a word.”

“He’s dating a woman named Elsa,” Emma blurts out, and Liam’s eyes practically bulge out of their sockets. “It’s only been a month, but he, as the two of you would say, fancies her.”

Killian’s entire body rumbles with laughter, and he’s never seen a sight so wonderful as Liam with his jaw dropped and cheeks reddened. Amazing. Emma is amazing for throwing Liam under the bus like that.

And maybe that’s why he leans over and presses his lips into Emma’s, tugging on her bottom lip and tasting hints of chocolate and cream, a kiss so sweet that he wants to taste it forever. Emma moans when his tongue runs across the seam of her lips, and the sound goes straight to his groin before Liam coughs and he’s brought back to where exactly he is and the situation he’s in.

That kiss wasn’t necessary, and he shouldn’t have done it.

(But he doesn’t regret it.)

“That’s the last time you and I ever share secrets, lass,” Liam grumbles, but Killian knows that there’s no ill will there. “And if you don’t mind, I think I’d like to go to sleep, so if the two of you could – ”

“The old man is kicking us out,” Emma teases before getting up and grabbing her mug, taking such a large chug of it that the remnants of whipped cream remain above her upper lip.

“You’re walking in dangerous territory, Ms. Nolan.”

“I’d care, but you’re not the Jones brother I like to impress.”

Liam huffs and waves her away. “Goodnight, love. I’ll see the two of you in the morning.”

“See you in the morning,” Killian tells Liam. “If Santa comes down the chimney, pretend to be asleep so he can leave you your lump of coal.”

Liam salutes. “Aye, aye, captain.”

Killian follows Emma upstairs until they’re in her bedroom and she’s sitting down on her bed downing the rest of her hot chocolate while she flips through the channels on the frankly miniscule television on her dresser. It’s quiet, nothing but the brief sounds of the TV and the hum of the heater, but Killian’s mind is loud with thoughts of Emma and Liam’s conversation and if she really did tell Liam that she loves Killian or if that’s something Liam inferred on his own. Or maybe she was simply keeping up the charade.

  
This week has fucked with his mind, and doesn’t know what’s up and what’s down anymore.

“KJ.”

“KJ.”

“ _KJ!”_

“What?” he jumps, blinking until he can focus on Emma. “Did you say something, love?”

“I asked where your head was because I’m pretty sure it was in a galaxy far, far away.”

“Something like that,” he awkwardly chuckles while scratching behind his ear. “You ready to go to bed?”

Her head cocks to the side, but she tells him yes before they both go into her small bathroom and shuffle around each other to go through their routines like they’ve done this every night for years and not simply the past few days. Soon enough, all the lights are turned off and they’re settling into their spots to sleep, breaths evening out.

Until they aren’t.

“Kilian?”

He turns his head and inches closer to Emma and can see the green of her eyes in the darkness. “Yes?”

“When you told Liam you were dating someone, you could have said anyone. You could have made a girl up, said someone at the university he didn’t know. You didn’t have to say me.”

“No, I supposed I didn’t.”

“So why did you?”

Killian swallows and closes his eyes. He doesn’t know how to answer this. She’s right. He shouldn’t have said her name. He should have said someone else’s, but he didn’t.

“Was it perhaps,” she continues as her toes drag along his calf and he feels the soft smoothness of her legs underneath her ridiculous snowman pajamas, “that you wanted it to be me? You wanted it to be true?”

“Emma – ”

Her hand reaches out to cup his face, palm against cheek, and sparks ignite over his skin. “Because I wish it was all true. I – ”

There have been times in his life where all Killian longed for was to hear the lilt of Emma’s voice. Now is not one of those times. Now, as his hands curl into the soft strands of her hair and his lips capture hers in the fiercest kiss they’ve shared in the past few days, all he cares about hearing is the little moan he got a glimpse of earlier making a reappearance in his life.

It does.

Almost too quickly, but Killian’s not complaining.

This is them kissing because they want to, even more so than all of the other times before, and Killian is absolutely savoring every little thing about Emma that he can – the soft lips, the insistent kiss, the sounds she makes.

God, the sounds.

She tastes like hot chocolate even more than she did before. It’s suddenly his favorite drink.

“So was this?” Emma starts.

“Yes,” he murmurs against her lips before trailing his teeth across her jaw and down her neck, grazing there and tasting the sweet salt of her skin. “Yes, yes, yes, yes.”

Emma’s resulting laugh quickly turns into a gasp when he nips at her neck, at her earlobe, down at her collarbone. He can’t stop tasting her, touching her, wanting to be with her. This week has been a torturous tease of what they could be, of what he’s wanted them to be, and now that it’s apparently real, he can’t seem to stop himself.

Emma tells him that she doesn’t want him to.

Killian is unsure of how much time he spends with his lips over Emma’s, the two of them getting to know each other in the deep light of the television, but frankly, he couldn’t give a damn about the lack of light. Liquid fire is running through his veins, and with every touch of Emma’s hand down his back and every caress of her lips, he melts a little bit more into Emma despite the fact that she still has on the snowman pajamas.

They’re endearing and very much Emma, and he nearly complains when she tugs down the pants, but that’s only nearly. He’s made a lot of stupid choices in his life, but refusing Emma Swan won’t be one of them.

“Can you be quiet for me, love?”

She nods her head, a smile on her face, and then he’s kissing her again while he pushes inside. She’s warm and wet and fucking glorious, and it takes everything in him not to gasp away from Emma and groan loud enough not only to wake up David and Mary Margaret but the entire town of Storybrooke.

That would certainly be something.

“I thought you said we were supposed to be quiet.”

He harshly thrusts into her at her tease, but she’s right. They are supposed to be quiet. Mostly they are, but the whispered grunts and quiet mumbles of each other’s names seem to fill the room and to mix in with the slapping of skin and the murmur of the television. Killian has to bite down onto Emma’s shoulder to tamper down his own cries of pleasure before turning his head into her ear to whisper to her.

“Fuck, you feel good like this.” His hands can’t stop moving over her, even with the limited space between them and around them, and Killian feels every hitch of Emma’s breath and hears every creak of this old mattress. His hand runs over her shirt, finding her breast underneath, and Emma buries her face in his neck as she cries out at the touch. “I have a feeling you’d feel good in any way.”

Her nails scratch against his back, and he swears that he hears her tell him to shut up.

Killian’s hand leaves her breast to find where they’re joined, rubbing in circles there as his peak gets closer and closer, waves of tension and pleasure washing over him as his heart beats faster than it ever has and every feeling in his body is focused on this and nothing else as Emma falls apart and he follows her soon after.

Their chests both heave as Killian falls off of being on top of Emma and onto the mattress, and the grin on his face has to stretch all the way to his eyes. Emma curls into him, resting her head on his chest, and he wraps his arm around her shoulder before kissing her hair.

This week doesn’t make a lick of sense, and he definitely doesn’t care.

“Believe it or not, that’s the first time I’ve ever had sex in my parents’ house.”

Killian barks out a laugh, one that he’s sure can be heard by everyone in the house, but he doesn’t give a damn, not anymore. “Funny, it’s the same for me.”

Emma slaps his chest before sitting up and pulling her messy, slightly damp hair into a bun. She’s still got on the ridiculous pajama shirt. “This has been a weird week, KJ.”

“But a good one, aye?”

“Yeah,” she smiles, leaning down and pressing her mouth over is, “the best. I’ll have to surprise you with your brother more often.”

“Good. I’m glad you know that I’ll have high standards for us going forward. Just wanted to state that upfront.”

Emma shakes her head as she laughs and places her knees on either side of his thighs to straddle his lap. “Merry Christmas, you idiot.”

“Merry Christmas, my love.”

-/-

They never tell Liam that it was all a lie because, in truth, none of it was.

It seems that everyone knew that but them.

Two Christmases later, there are rings on both of their left hands, and David finally lets Killian be on Emma’s team in charades.

They obviously win.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, hey, hey, I can be found over on Tumblr at [let-it-raines](https://let-it-raines.tumblr.com) ❤️🎄


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